Housecall

 

Heard your voice in my
sleep while you hammered thorns
into my skin.
When you touched my hand, my blood
felt perfect. I'm paralyzed.
Opening my eyes, my blood flows
out. I'm choking on a word but
cannot pronounce it. It weighs
heavier than me. A thickness
of red covering my mouth.

What is this space I've been occupying?
A shadow which melts
into making me terminal.
Drifting away from memories, I need
to go deeper-
stray away from my death that
keeps me strapped.

 

SAN SALVADOR: LOOKING BACK YEARS LATER

You are suspended as a cloud only once.
This is where you seek battles, taste
death, and invent situations with
the emptiness of your tongue.

Embrace yourself. There is no guarantee
for a complete death.
Your heart has been transplanted into
the necessary. Your kiss will not last long.
Solitude will be your witness.
It was all a strange conspiracy,
stretched out and mad.

I went for a walk today. It changed me.
Where the road led was striking.
Too many body parts crucified.

I sip a cup of coffee and bury you in
its heat. Each sip an embalming fluid.
Seeing your dead face, I know we are chained by
our own hands digging in the dirt.

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